


to make you feel my love

by ryswell



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: ASOIAF Rare Pair Week, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drabbles, F/M, M/M, True Love, all different types of love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 19:21:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15713481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryswell/pseuds/ryswell
Summary: My works for asoiaf rarepair week. (All have been rewritten!)





	1. Robb x Rhaenys

**Author's Note:**

> So since writing them I’ve wnated to rewrite my stories for rarepair week 2018 and so I did! I’ve actually switched some around, changed some pairings and that because I just didn’t like the ones I’d written :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb x Rhaenys. The prompt was fake relationship.

Having grown up in the capital where all knew to lie and scheme as easily as to breath, the arrival of Robb Stark was brilliantly new. Rhaenys had heard rumours - because even she had an ear for gossip; it could save your life here - that her kingly father thought to betroth her to Robb, the heir of Lord Eddard. Aegon was already betrothed to both Tywin Lannister’s granddaughter and the Tyrell girl and Jon to cousin Arianne; of course their father wanted her to wed a Stark.

 

With Robb though, it was easy to forget politics. She didn’t have to watch what she said or worry he will tell her secrets. He also understood her and listened and treated her like a normal person, which was perhaps the only thing she’d ever wanted.

 

Just like her Robb had many potential suitors. They both loved their mothers but both seemed so focused on finding them good partners their forgot to ask what they wanted. Rhaenys didn’t want to marry Joffrey Baratheon or Edmure Tully or Tyrion Lannister or Rodrik Greyjoy because none of them made her smile even a little as much as Robb had in his week of being here. Robb also told her of the Northern girls who were quick and clever and brilliant but none of them did he wish to spend forever with. Apparently now that he’d come South his mother began looking to more women for him to wed.

 

“Perhaps, Robb, we should pretend to have a courtship, if only to get some peace from our mothers?” Rhaenys says one day as a male but then Robb nods and she realises perhaps this could work and so Robb begins kissing her hand after court where all can see and come sto her when she’s with her ladies to gift her flowers. After his practises she kisses his cheek and at tourneys gives him her favour.

 

If only for the sake of courtly expectations, Robb does ask her father for his hand when word of her apparent betrothal to an Arryn becomes more spoken of, they are all surprised that her father says yes. Suddenly they are being married in the Great Sept, their mothers sharing knowing glances and handkerchiefs to wipe their tears, and during their first dance as husband and wife (after a ceremony in both the sept and godswood) Rhaenys returns Robb’s cheerful if nervous smile and is hit with a sudden realisation.

 

She loves him.

 

Somewhere between the idea of pretend romance and saying their vows, Rhaenys had fallen in love with the kind, honest, jovial man who had spoken to her not for gain or in the hopes of speaking to her sire but because she ‘had looked unfortunately bored’ and he thought a face like hers was made more for laughing than frowning.

 

She tells him this hesitantly that night and is surprised when he doesn’t look too shocked. “I think a part of me has know I loved you since the beginning but it was only when King Rhaegar said yes that I knew it. That I love you.” How did she get so lucky?


	2. Elia x Brandon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elia x Brandon. The prompt was jealousy.

“He does not deserve you,” Brandon rages, so like Oberyn just had. Elia sits on the makeshift bed, praying only that Brandon doesn’t rip the tent down. She was angry too, but mostly disappointed. Why Rhaegar has crowned Ashara as Queen of Love and Beauty she wouldn’t know. Elia knew Ashara hadn’t betrayed her like she knows the sky was blue.

 

“I remember you saying that before you threw those slippers, which aren’t mine but Ashara’s as it happens, a gift from me to her on her nameday.” Elia sips her wine, wondering if Ashara is okay. If anyone speaks ill of her Elia has commanded Oberyn to have words with them. Her friend shan’t be made a mockery of because of her husband’s foolishness. Ashara has made sure Elia was alright, sang Rhaenys her usual lullaby before claiming she was going to speak to ‘her brother.’ Elia only hopes Howland Reed can bring back her beautiful smile.

 

Her words don’t help Brandon’s rage. “As for that little -“

 

Elia stands at that, just at Brandon’s shoulders but levelling him with a look that had all the fire of a Princess of Dorne. “Don’t finish that sentence. If anyone is a little anything it is us. You are betrothed to a Tully and I am wed to the heir to the throne. We are having a mad, dangerous affair that could have both us and our family and our child killed. Brandon, my love, if you speak an ill word of my dear friend you won’t have to wait for Aerys to get to you.”

 

She imagines she has the look of Nymeria at that moment and cannot help but be proud.

 

Knowing she doesn’t give idle threats, Brandon nods and sits down in Ashara’s bed. “How does Rhaenys fare? I haven’t seen her properly since she was a few moons old. I know I can’t bounce her on my knee and tuck her in at night, but I should like to... see her.” Her own rage felts away at that. She hadn’t meant to grow with Rhaenys and spent the whole pregnancy terrified that the babe would look like a Stark. The gods were on her side seemingly, as Rhaenys was all Martell. Except sometimes she saw a hint of blue in her eyes - like the eyes of Brandon’s mother and youngest brother - but if it became clear her eyes weren’t black but indeed blue as a summer day. Well, her father had had blue eyes, hadn’t he?

 

Still, it had been very risky and she knew for certain that the babe she carried now was Rhaegar’s - unfortunately. Elia would love her children just the same but no doubt she would always wish they came from the same place of love as each other. For she did love Brandon, even if it makes her mad as the Targaryens.

 

“I will get my revenge on him one day, we all will, but Brandon we must wait. Aerys is yet king and a mad tyrant at that. Rhaegar is a prophecy obsessed fool. One day we will get what we want but not right this moment, yes?” He bows his head in agreement and Elia is pleased that he at least believes her words, even if she does not.

 

Yet she smiles surely and puts her hand on his cheek, pressing her head to his. Finally he has calmed down.


	3. Rickon x Steffon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rickon x Steffon. The prompt was ‘I thought you were a dream come true’.

During their years of being ‘companions’ (lovers) Rickon had become Prince of Skagos, beloved by the people, speaker of three languages, adventurer of foreign lands, brother of legendary King Brandon of Winter the greenseer and skin changer. Steffon was a friend of Queen Shireen and councillor of King Aegon, a famed knight whose family had risen from the now ruined city of King’s Landing to the palace of Cape Wrath and it’s prosperous lands by being loyal and kind.

 

They were in the chambers they were shown to by Steffon’s oldest living brother Devan, who was lover to both Shireen and Aegon. It was an open secret at court. The sun was high and bright in the sky, the seasons were changing on a sort of pattern and the relam was more at peace than ever it had been..

 

“So, Steffon, we are back in the place we met,” Steffon begins, sitting back against the chair he sits on. They’re out in the balcony, watching boats go in and out the harbour. “I should like to know what you first thought of me?”

 

He shrugs, putting his feet on the railing. “That was years ago...” he says, trying to remember. Gods, they’d been young then. Rickon had been wild from being raised among so called savages, with enough vengeance and anger for ten slighted men. Steffon had been grieving his father and oldest brothers but also had hope, as all had. Steffon’s eyes are still the same light, warm brown, though his hair wasn’t the same mess of dark curls. “After getting to know you more than simply your name and family I thought you were quite an extraordinary man - well, boy - who was too kind for his own good.”

 

Steffon smiles, surely remembering how unhappy Rickon had been then. For good reason, of course, but still, he was pleased to have found some good in the world now.

 

When he asks Steffon what he died thought of him his lover smiled. “If I am honest, I thought you were a dream come true. As soon as I met you I knew the gods thought we should get to know each other better and once we did, well, here we are sharing a bed and nobody cares at all.”

 

Suddenly Rickon feels quite bad for making a jape. “That’s an incredibly sweet thing to say, my love. I wonder what I did to deserve you but I am glad. Even though we’re both turning old and grey I love you as much as I did that day we first spoke after the royal wedding.”

 

Steffon grins, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek. Rickon smiles, watching the ships again, remembering the wonderful years he’d spent with Steffon and how they had changed him for the better and given him so many happy years. Perhaps, Rickon thinks fondly, I thought you were a dream.


	4. Stannis x Lyanna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stannis x Lyanna. The prompt was ‘fight me’.

She had managed to convince Stannis to allow her to go out on the hunt and felt perfectly comfortable atop her saddle, the wind whipping her hair around her face. It was almost like being home again. They’d caught a stag and a handful rabbits, some of which Lyanna herself had hit. Whenever she did make a successful kill her husband would nod, seemingly proud.

 

They’d been wed for over a year and a half now and already had their darling Shireen and despite the fact that Stannis made sure to tell everyone who asked that Shireen was his heir and not his brother Renly, Lyanna was with child again. Not because she didn’t want her daughter to rule but because lines have had more than one heir and been wiped out. Besides, Shireen was a lonely babe, she could use some company.

 

In that time of marriage though Stannis always seemed to keep his distance from her but then, he seemed to do that with everyone. She’s tried speaking with him about it, about his parents and their death but he wouldn’t hear it. Lyanna grew tired of trying. Perhaps if he opened up, or showed any emotion... she shakes her head. If she wanted grand shows of emotion she’d have married his late brother Robert. Gods help her but the only tears she wept when he died were happy ones. Lyanna wouldn’t have survived wedding such a possessive, angry man.

 

Stannis isn’t possessive or angry, he is loyal and serious and intelligent, follows rules and law. Not the most exciting but you knew what you were going to get with him, essentially. And he was truly brilliant with Shireen.

 

Lyanna heard some men talking of having a challenge to see how can catch the most in half an hour. She turns to Stannis, smiling. “Husband, are you brave enough to challenge me?”

 

“No doubt you’re my better with the bow, my lady,” Stannis allows. He’s clearly in a good mood today. “You’d win most easily. With steel however... ‘it’s not right for a man to fight his wife.”

 

Ignoring what he said, she challenges him. “Fight me, Stannis. When we get back to the castle. And I would rethink you words there - I’m your better at bow and steel.”

 

He looks uncomfortable at that but not annoyed and there was even the hint of a smile tugging st his lips. With Stannis that meant he was practically jumping for a joy. “Meaning no offence, my lady, but you’re so... small...” He says it so awkwardly, as though one wrong word would slight her honour, that Lyanna takes pity on him.

 

Rolling her eyes, she nods. “I understand, Stannis. It wouldn’t look very... manly as you to beat your wife to a pulp -“ he mutters about how he’d never do that “- and you’re reputation is that of a very noble lord indeed. I know how much you Southrons care about what others say of you.” There is no real bite to her words and Stannis actually smiles. It seems the gods gifted him the ability to look somewhat pleased after all!


	5. Ned x Cersei

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned x Cersei. The prompt was salty teens.

“I don’t want to marry you,” Cersei tells him, and it was true. Since she was a girl her father had promised she would wed Prince Rhaegar and become his Queen - but Lyanna Stark had got there first. With Robert Baratheon and Elbert Arryn spoken for, and Edmure Tully and Willas Tyrell too young, her father had had no choice but to look North, where the heir had joined the Kingsguard. That left Eddard Stark the heir to Winterfell and her husband.

 

Eddard nods, apparently uninterested. Under his breath she heard him mutter, “you were hardly my first choice.” Cersei had wanted Jaime or Rhaegar, even handsome, charming Brandon would do. Not plain, boring Eddard Stark.

 

And how dare he! With her came a dowry with gold enough to fill the stupid crypts beneath the castle. Cersei wasn’t perhaps the most pleasant of brides but she was clever and quick and, most importantly, beautiful. More pretty than Princess Lyanna, to be sure.

 

“Who was a better choice than me then?” Cersei demands to know. They’re in the glass gardens, which was flowers in the midst of blooming but their beauty cannot calm her now. “Because I’ll have you know many suitors wished for my hand!”

 

He shakes his head, walking forwards. “It is best not to think of things that might’ve been.” When he sees she won’t drop it, though, Eddard sighs. “I met a girl at a Southron tourney and was... fond of her. She’s betrothed now and we never did anything but, well, it was just a boyish fancy, to be sure.”

 

Cersei knows she’s speaking about Ashara Dayne and almost made a mockery of him before remembering the pain she felt when Rhaegar wed another, when Jaime left her and she knows how that feels. Eddard might use her pain against her. She can’t allow that. “That’s tragic,” is all she says, in a sweet voice. She can see him roll his grey eyes.

 

She wondered if their child will have his eyes or hers. Better for them that they have her face and his colouring - his grey eyes were nice enough, after all. Gods, Cersei cannot imagine consummating the marriage but in less than a week that’s exactly what they shall do. All the North and West are coming together, even Rhaegar and Lyanna will be arriving soon.

 

“Indeed.” Cersei stops to look at an especially beautiful flower that must be the winter rose her Aunt Genna said Lyanna wore to her wedding. If Lyanna likes them perhaps they aren’t so pretty. Eddard noticed her looking though. “My sister liked them and my mother did too.” Thats perhaps the only thing they had in common beside wanting someone else - their mothers were both dead. His eyes turned dull when he spoke of Lady Lyarra and Cersei imagined she was the same when speaking of Lady Joanna

 

“They are quite pretty,” Cersei allows, knowing the pain of a mother’s loss isn’t easy to bare. She might as well be kind to him for now, they are to spend a lifetime together. “Though at our wedding I’d prefer different colours of flowers in my hair. Blue doesn’t look well with gold. Your gardens don’t have any red, do they?”

 

Eddard Stark smiles a little then and Cersei supposes she could be stuck with worse


	6. Arya x Willas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya x Willas. The prompt was arranged marriage.

Highgarden was fancy and pretty, like something out of Sansa’s dreams but ironically, it would be Arya’s one day through her marriage to Willas Tyrell. He was a cripple but Arya care more for the fact that he was old. She had recently turned six-and-ten and Willas was a year off thirty. He was handsome enough but just looked so Southron, even without all the rings he wore and the golden buttons on his shirt, he was clean shaven where Northern boys her age had beards.

 

“My lady,” Willas greets, kissing her hand. “Lady Arya, you are as beautiful as the winter roses are said to be.” If there’s one thing she’d rather not be called it’s flower. Since she first bled Arya knows she has changed, in looks if not personality. Everyone said she looked like her Aunt Lyannathe Queen and it seemed that everyone was treating her differently.

 

Mother and Septa spoke more and more of being a lady, Father wanted her to be calmer and gentler, Robb wouldn’t even entertain the idea of letting her watch him fight now, Bran didn’t practise with her in the godswood, Rickon was... well, he was only a toddler.

 

The only person who didn’t seem to change was Sansa, who she still fought with, no matter how pretty they both apparently were. Her sister was wed to the prince now though, and seemed happy enough.

 

“Thanks,” Arya replies awkwardly. At her mother’s raised brow she grants her husband to be a smile. “You are kind, my Lord.”

 

She is lead inside by him to chambers far larger than her ones at Winterfell that have an enormous bed, too many closets, a room for bathing, an area set aside somewhat like a solar and a balcony and lovely view of a lake and grounds and she can just make out the stables. Arya feels like a bloody princess.

 

“You have horses?” She asks curiously, craning her neck to see some running freely and happily.

 

Willas nods. “All different breeds, some made for tourneys - those are the best in the Reach. And we have a lot of Dornish sandsteeds too. Have you ever ridden one of those?”

 

Arya shakes her head. She sees he is gritting his teeth and remembers his leg. How stupid is she to have forgotten. She gestures to a chair. “Sit down, my lord.”

 

He does with a thankful smile. Arya sits opposite him, glancing at the pieces of artwork all around the room. There seems to be more walls than windows. On the table there is a bowl of fruit. Arya takes a grape, passing one to Willas. “You needn’t call me Willas, my lady, we shall be wed after all.”

 

She supposes that makes sense. “So long as you call me Arya. Saying ‘my lady’ makes me think you’re addressing my lady mother.” Her betrothed agrees with a smile and they speak some more about horses, which they both love, and the many differences between the North and the Reach. Willas promises to let her ride some Dornish breeds and to take her to his family in Oldtown. Arya is delighted at the thought of going to the top of the Hightower, where it’s said you can see the Wall.

 

Yes, he’s Southron and old and quite her opposite but well, Arya supposes she could be stuck with worse.


	7. Arthur x Jaime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur x Jaime for the free day.

Queen Elia and Princess Rhaenys had wished to go to the wedding of Princess Arianne and a Hightower boy and Arthur was one of the Kingsguard who would accompany them. He thanked Rhaegar graciously, his old friend knew how dearly he missed his homeland, after all. Ser Jaime was to come too, if only because even now that she was older Rhaenys favoured him. Elia had even told him Rhaenys had wished to wed Jaime as a girl.

 

The boy - well, he wasn’t a boy anymore - was still handsome, his once shining gold hair now had a bronze shine to it, no doubt from years under the warm sun of the Crownlands. Jamie’s eyes were still that brilliant sparkling green. He had a shadow of a beard too - he’d grown it out once and all their sworn brothers agreed he was better clean shaven. Jamie’s features were sharp as his tongue and his lips...

 

Arthur focused on Rhaenys’ endless chatter about Arianne’s wedding and will her wedding to Robb Stark be Dornish and so on. He sees Elia speaking to Jaime. Elia knew about himself and Jaime after he broke down in tears like some babe and she had helped him up and told him to man up and tell Jaime how he felt.

 

He had, awkwardly and with no grace. Jaime had said naught and Arthur began to worry if he would tell anyone and perhaps their six years apart was large enough and - then Jaime had kissed him, laughing all the while. Arthur supposed their fellow Kingsguard knew but they said naught, just as he didn’t tell anyone that Lewyn’s latest mistress was a girl from the House Florent or that Gerold had long thought Willum Darry to be quite handsome. They were brothers in a way, and kept each other’s secrets as they did their king’s.

 

They eventually arrive at Sunspear, where Rhaenys moves to Arianne to speak constantly at and Princes Doran and Oberyn greet him with the familiarity of those who’d been raised somewhat like cousins, with their mothers being close as sisters. It’s so good to be home and Elia, seemingly knowing that Rhaegar intended this to be a holiday for them all, lets him and Jaime off their duties after the welcoming feast. None shall hurt her or the princess here, after all.

 

He decides to show Jaime around the gardens which aren’t as beautifully simple as the Water Gardens and then to the beach, which is blessedly peaceful.

 

“You never look this happy in the capital,” Jaime notes. Arthur had been staring out to see, reminiscing.

 

“I suppose I don’t. You know, I’ve spent more time there than in Dorne but... I grew up here and it’s my home more than the White Sword Tower ever could be.” Arthur leans back on the sand, remembering all the times he did as a boy.

 

He’s pleasantly surprised when Jaime does too. “It’s the same with me and the Rock. And yet I’ve never regretted joining the Kingsguard. If I hadn’t I’d never have gotten so close to you, Dayne.” Jaime leans over him, their mouths almost touching and well, Arthur can’t disagree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I’m hoped no one is too bothered about me rewriting these (I know rarepair week was over in June oops lol) and deleting the old ones. I just wanted to rewrite them for so long but didn’t have time until now :)


End file.
